The Great Escape
by PseudonymousEntity
Summary: Harry and Voldemort tumble through the veil while dueling and come out the other side. When a secret organization captures them, nothing is ever the same.
1. This is Gonna Hurt

***The Great Escape***

* * *

 **The Great Escape** by **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

 **Summary: Events at the ministry go differently than fate intended. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort fall through the veil...and come out the other side. A secret muggle organization captures them. Nothing is ever the same.**

 **Characters: Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort and **** *******

 **Warnings:** (Suggestions for warnings will be taken into consideration)

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** Yet another idea I've had floating in the wings. Very rough idea.

 **ANx3: OFFICIALLY NO LONGER A ONE SHOT.**

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

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 _"Ten simple reasons we're keeping you breathing, nine millimeter rounds and shells on the floor_

 _Eight, seven, six you've cut your hands on your crucifix, they've got your scent and they're approaching the door now_

 _This is about survival, these are high powered rifles and they go - BOOM!"_

 **-Victim Effect**

* * *

There was no warning of what was to come. Like many things in Harry Potter's young life, it happened almost spontaneously.

The Gryffindor ran through the now nameless, now superfluous faces of the dueling magic users around him. He darted through and around, avoiding hexes and curses alike with reflexes usually reserved for chasing snitches or fleeing from cousins. A single minded laser-like focus pulled him ever nearer to his target. Long ringlets of dark hair so like _his_ danced in the air just out of his reach. Stinging taunts spoken in a sing-song voice floated back to him from the lips of his target.

He did not know when they became alone nor quite where they were. In fact, he would not realize either of things for several moments longer. In this moment Harry Potter brought forward his phoenix feather wand, aimed it at the fleeing witch and shouted.

 _"Crucio!"_

She stumbled, startled. Laughter bubbled from her and filtered through the air in the empty atrium. "You've got to mean it, Potter." She educated.

And something about her standing there and looking so like him and laughing so like him and being so alive while _he_ was _not_ lit a tattered, long forgotten fuse within the fifteen-year-old wizard. His feet stilled at once, ceasing their previous motions. He brought his arms down and closed his eyes. Just as quickly his eyes opened to find his prey watching him, her own movements paused, gray eyes shining in curiosity. Amusement. Three more feet and she'd have reached the floo. Three more feet and this may never have happened.

But it did.

Harry's wand slipped from his fingers into his pocket without much conscious recognition of the event on his part. It wasn't important now. A power he'd seldom used and never thought to harness rose to answer the empty call his phoenix feather focus left behind. The same power which locked his bully of a cousin within the very enclosure of the serpent he'd taunted. The same power which had blown up his aunt to suit the hot air and vile hatred she spewed. Indeed it was nothing unnamed or unknown. It was his magic answering his call as it was meant to do, as the sorcerers of old had once used it. Fulfilling its duty to its master.

In a third of a second's time of green eyes meeting gray Harry raised his hand palm out in the witch's direction, whispering, _"Crucio."_

A calm fell over the boy. A stillness. No longer was he plagued by the sight of his beloved godfather falling through the veil, his only hope of a real family slipping away with him. No longer did the guilt and shame of the danger he'd put his friends into unnecessarily feed upon him. No fear nor regret nor pain nor fatigue tainted his calm. Beyond such things was the-boy-who-lived, in the center of his magic's storm.

It was this scene Lord Voldemort would happen upon. Harry's field of reality would broaden to include the dark lord at the icy touch that flickered along his wrist. He turned his head to meet the curious, calculating eyes of Voldemort. His spell ended, his hand went limp though Voldemort continued to hold it in his cold grip. He would come to learn it was, in fact, his own coolness he felt rising to fend off the foreign touch. But that wasn't now. Right now they stood together and considered one another.

"She isn't laughing anymore." Harry found himself saying.

Simultaneously, on a signal known only to them, they set their magic against each other. Bellatrix was forgotten. Order of the Phoenix forgotten. The prophecy which brought them here...forgotten.

Spiraling around one another they eventually found themselves back in the room which started it all. The room in which he lost his godfather. Red and blue and gold streaks of light flashed. Hexes whistled through the air. They were bleeding. There would be bruises. It mattered little. Harry needed this, needed to pour out the emotions he held within him and Voldemort provided an outlet more enticing than Bellatrix had ever been. A curiosity to the unattached observer, should any of their comrades had been left in the room to witness the arrangement, might have been the length of the fight. The lack of lethal spellwork. While each did in their fashion aim to hurt, to wound the other, to sever and to tear and to brutalize, neither one did attempt to end the fight. It would occur to the observer that the end result of the both was not to kill the other -as it ought to be- but to make the other hurt. Curious indeed.

And it was here that it happened. Harry Potter the-boy-who-lived and Lord Voldemort the Dark Lord, fell through the veil...

...and came out the other side.

Harry's shoes squeaked on the slick concrete, sliding out from underneath him. His back met the ground with a solid, semi-ominous _thwack._ Almost immediately the breath fled from his lungs in an agonizing whoosh, Lord Voldemort's far larger body having fallen out of thin air just as Harry's had moments before. Onto the boy himself below.

Gasping for breath, torn between shoving the dark wizard off of him and just laying there until the world reoriented its self, Harry noticed several things that were out of place. The wet concrete really should have been his first clue that something was very wrong indeed. What Harry Potter did notice was that he was _wet._ Because it was raining. Next, he noticed he could see the stars which was usually unlikely when one was inside a building. Having lived in the wizarding world however he'd known at least one building with a sky for a ceiling so who was he to say the Ministry didn't employ a similar illusion? He had a harder time convincing himself the sound of auto's motors and voices speaking an unknown language were also the work of spellcraft.

Untangling themselves, unspoken ceasefire in place, the two had time enough to see they were in the middle of some muggle compound at night. Boots thudded on the wet pavement. Muggles in strange uniforms carrying firearms soon surrounded them on all sides. Harry glanced at Voldemort.

The snake-faced man reacted. He blasted a group of the muggles to their right. A man with a large, bulky gun received a deadly shot of green light. Survival instincts kicking in, the Gryffindor followed suit. A _flipendo_ here. A _bombarda_ here. He aimed around the muggles choosing to send their trucks careening across the lot or blow up sections of the ground at their feet when they came too close. Being the Gryffindor he was he didn't want to hurt them...but he was Slytherin enough to acknowledge the bad feeling creeping into the corners of his mind warning him to get the Hell out of there.

Neither of them was prepared for the lone shooter with a very special sort of gun. Two darts hit their marks.

The wizards went down.

*HPTMR*HPTMR*

Brief moments of clarity. A shower in a plastic tube. Unknown powder sprayed on them. New clothes. Arms twisted behind their backs while muggle men in uniforms pulled them around with unforgiving grips. Harry thought he tried to do something. He knew Voldemort did. Even in the haze that particular shade of green was hard to miss. He didn't know what happened to the dark lord after that, he was pulled the other way down a hallway of some kind. Just as his mind clicked on, whatever they'd shot him with finally out of his system, a metal door slid open and blinding lights shined right in his face.

Harry stumbled forward into a waiting cell. He reached out both hands and caught himself against the fiberglass window to his left. It started halfway along the wall and hit the roof. Through it, he could see Voldemort thrown into the cell beside him moments later. Unlike Harry, he was soon chained to the wall. For the best really, Harry thought dryly. He'd have done the same if he thought he could get away with it.

Harry's legs shook. With a violent exhale Harry let his back fall against the window-wall and slide down to the floor. There he tried to collect his senses.

What would happen? He wondered. Would they get a hold of the Dursleys to come and fetch him? Would they take him to an orphanage? What country were they in? How did this even happen? Harry bit his lip. How could he tell them anything if he couldn't understand them? He hadn't heard anyone speaking English! Being caught with Voldemort wasn't going to go far to make him seem trustworthy even if he could speak to them. And what would he say? " _Sorry we crashed your secret compound and fell out of thin air -I can see how that might be alarming- but we're just wizards in the middle of a duel so if you could kindly inform us what country we're in and set us free so we can get back to trying to kill one another, that'd be great."_ How did stuff like this keep happening to him?

He was not given long to wonder.

Two muggles in uniforms came in through the single door to the room in which they were kept. Entering behind them were more muggles in long white jackets. Doctors? The muggles in white said something to the muggles in uniform. Harry wished he knew the language they were speaking, but the only ones he'd even recognize were English, French and Bulgarian. Apparently, they were in none of those countries. How had they managed to fall through into another country? What the veil a portkey?

Jolted from his thoughts Harry found himself being seized by the arms, pulled to his feet and dragged from his cell. He glanced back over his shoulder. Voldemort was busy with his own muggles. He saw two of them drop to the floor in flashes of red light. In this moment Harry found himself cheering the dark lord on, which was surreal. But honestly, did these muggles think chains would keep _Voldemort_ from hurting them?

Harry's muggles brought dragged him out the door, and down the hallway. The lights were on every few feet here. The hall on cement or concrete. Shades of gray. Someone let out a shriek from one of the doors they passed. Harry's heart twisted in his chest. This was bad. Very, very bad.

 _"Wait. Wait, what's happening?"_ Harry asked, digging his feet into the ground. One of the muggles holding him jumped and swore in whatever language that was.

He was brought to a sterile metallic room he would come to loathe. Harry had never been to the doctor or to a scientist's lab, but even with his limited experience with Muggles outside of his relatives, Harry knew this wasn't where he wanted to be. Televisions were a thing and he'd seen glimpses of programs in his life. He knew you never wanted to be the guy strapped to the table. Some part of him came to life. A part determined to survive. Harry's body flung its self backward. His hands grasped the exposed wrists of his captors. The Gryffindor turned and rolled, he brought up his knee and kicked out. Shiny metal objected hummed and vibrated in their places along the counters of the room, some of them rising into the air and point toward the muggles.

Later he would ponder the excited looks on the muggles in lab coats faces. How the watched their uniformed comrades dissolved into dust in Harry's hands. No screaming came from them, oh know. They merely chatted with one another in their language, scribbling on their clipboards. Like they were robots.

Harry turned as soon as the last uniformed muggle fell away from him, clutching the arm that was quickly turning to ash. The door was only three meters behind him. He almost made it too. Metal doors slid shut inches from his fingertips. His body fell against it with a solid thump. Cursing, Harry whirled back around. Cornered. Caged in. The doctor muggles weren't like the uniformed ones though. They were ready for him. The one closest to Harry, a muggle with copper hair, stabbed his left arm with a large needle. Almost immediately Harry's legs turned to jelly and his head swam.

When he could focus again he was already strapped down to the table.

How long were they there? Harry couldn't have told anyone. Sometimes time dragged on for an eternity and others it passed so quickly. In between the moments where nothing at all happened -and those were few- his life was filled with moments of uncontrollable convulsing as men in lab coats turned dials on a machine connected to the wires on his head. Moments where they pried his mouth open; using thick gloves he couldn't get his power through, to shove a plastic tube down his throat. They poked and they prodded, reading information off of computer screens. When his magic flared up they got especially excited, talking to one another with big hand gestures. Then they'd do whatever they'd done again and again.

And again.

Then there was the darkness. Harry wasn't afraid of the dark. He grew up in the cupboard under the stairs, shoved away in a small dark place where no one would have to look at him. He wasn't afraid of the dark. The muggles liked that. He would be pulled into a cell in a room away from the one he normally shared with Voldemort. He still hadn't managed to escape, not that it would do Harry much good. The wizard would leave him here. This room had nothing in it. He was shoved into it, the door sliding closed behind him. Then the lights would go off. The first time they did it he found himself laughing incredulously. Time went by. A week in the dark maybe? This perhaps was their cue to up their game. The following day came with something new in the darkness. Every twenty minutes a bell sounded. It wasn't until the next day Harry realized they were keeping him awake. Well, he'd gone days without sleep before. He could do it again.

Then they stopped _feeding_ him.

After these tests, he was brought to a new lab room. It was no longer the one with the strap down table. Harry had felt the fluttering of hope, at first. They'd grown bored of torturing him maybe.

He was very wrong. They were testing his healing abilities. Impressed by his lack of dying it seemed. Two hours later Harry would have given anything to go back to the electric shock room. Anything. The day ended. Then a prick to his neck and a return to his cell. This time the one with Voldemort. The small wizard sat in his cell ignoring the uniformed muggles now stationed in the cell at all times. Voldemort killed too many and Harry turned too many to ash. They were wary of them. Good, thought Harry. They ought to be. Stupid, stupid muggles.

Harry knew what was happening. It was the sort of horror story he'd heard a specific irritating Slytherin tell to his friends to keep them entertained -and frightened- when they were all forced to sleep in the great hall during his third year. Huddled in the plush purple sleeping bags in the dim candlelight there was little else to keep their minds off the mass murderer loose in their school. It had only been a story, one he thought certainly made up and bias, focusing on muggles as the villains, whom Malfoy was known for disliking, Yet here they were. Voldemort and he. Stolen away to a muggle lab _Merlin knew_ where. Poked and prodded and injected with something only to wake up back in their cells.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Who better than he knew that sometimes nightmares weren't as much a fiction as you wished them to be?

Time went on. They fell into a routine. A routine of torture and darkness and testing and darkness. The men in uniforms had learned quickly to always keep them a bit tranquilized when moving them about. One thing the wizards in question could agree on was their shared ability to think on their feet. Any opening. Any opportunity. They seized it. Muggles lost limbs, sight, even memories. They took a special interesting in Harry after that particular incident. Or even more of one. His healing was still a topic of interest.

On a day where nothing happened for him, Harry sat in his cell staring up at the ceiling. Voldemort lay against the wall separating them, breathing heavily. He'd just finished whatever it was they did with him. They were the only ones in this room, a room they thought of as theirs. Harry didn't know if there were other magicals here or if those shrieks were from their own kind. These muggles were definitely insane.

 _"Potter,"_ Voldemort whispered hoarsely.

Harry turned his green eyes lazily toward the window. _"Riddle."_ They had yet to be caught while speaking Parseltongue. The muggles didn't even seem to realize they were communicating.

 _"Do you know how to shut it down? The machine that keeps the doors locked."_ Voldemort continued. _"Do you think you could do it?"_

Harry closed his eyes. He had thought of it of course. Leaning back against the wall, more for the support to stay upright than an effort to hear his only companion better, he replied, _"I was never allowed around the computers. I don't know much about them. I think there should be an on and off switch though. If we could find it. If we could buy ourselves enough time to get out."_

A plan. A flimsy one. One crafted more for the sake of keeping their hopes up than any real motivation to escape. They could not. They'd tried. And even if they did neither of them knew enough of machines and technology to do anything other than waste time while the muggles found them. Neither had come up with a way to get anywhere near where the computer or control room might be. They were never alone.

Harry found himself talking to Voldemort. Randomly almost. He'd mention something. He felt a need to, almost. To give the man an explanation why he was useless. _"I hardly left the house."_ He would say, out of nowhere. _"But to work the garden really. Even inside if I wasn't attending to my chores I was in my cupboard."_ Another day, who knew how long later, he would add, _"I never received anything from them. I watched though. I watched my cousin on his gaming station and on his computer. I know the idea of it. If I could see a muggle doing it I think I could copy it."_

Voldemort remained silent, usually, unless he had a question about the muggle technology. Rarely was Harry able to answer those questions to his satisfaction. Sometimes though, Riddle slipped through the veneer of Voldemort and offered vague remarks. Time passed. Time. Harry didn't know why he felt so guilty. So useless. He'd lived with muggles his whole life and here he was, held captive by them in a completely muggle facility and he didn't have a clue what more than half the gadgets and machines they saw were even called. They could have been on an alien spaceship for all the good his knowledge would do them.

One day Harry woke from a session to find himself in Voldemort's cell. They did this rarely. Usually when they wanted the dark lord to fix something rather than wait for Harry's magic to heal him. They'd become impatiently recently, Harry had noticed. His mind flittered with glimmerings of images and feelings from Voldemort. Their connection they had not utilized since their coming here. During the healing, the emotions changed abruptly from a solid, clear calm to one of confusion. Confusion to surprise to anger.

Harry was certain he heard Riddle calling Dumbledore a conniving bastard at one point. But really, who was he to talk? Dark Lords were as conniving as they came...

How odd.

This was the day it finally happened. The lights turned out all at once. Two minutes later a low humming sound came into being and dim lights came on. Alarms sounded through the compound. A raid, Harry's mind supplied. They listened to the sounds of gunfire. Of yells and shrieks. Would the attackers kill them as well? Did it matter? The door to their room unlocked and slid open with a hiss. Voldemort stood from where he'd been crouching over Harry. Harry couldn't see what was happening from his angle on the floor but he could guess what the muggles reaction to someone who looked like Voldemort might be. A saving people complex was more than useless when it compelled you to aid the very person who wanted to _kill_ you. Complaining to himself mentally Harry struggled to his feet. Perhaps these muggles would stop if they saw Harry. For all intents and purposes, he looked normal. Maybe they would stop. Maybe they weren't like the others.

A gunshot. A murmured spell. A flash of light. Something hit him square in the chest.

The world went dark.

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

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 **Notes:** Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?

 _Post Script: I'm a bit excited to work on my first crossover. I read them often enough, I simply haven't posted one of my own before._

 **-Ever Yours. Pseu**


	2. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

***The Great Escape***

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 **The Great Escape** by **Pseudonymous Entity**

* * *

 **Summary: Events at the ministry go differently than fate intended. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort fall through the veil...and come out the other side. A secret muggle organization captures them. Nothing is ever the same.**

 **Characters: Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort and *************

 **Warnings:** (Suggestions for warnings will be taken into consideration)

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** The first chapter has had bits of it rewritten and expanded to reflect its new status of full story rather than one-shot. Feel free to give it a quick reread.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

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 _"Memories consume, like opening the wound I'm picking me apart again_

 _You all assume I'm safe here in my room unless I try to start again_

 _Clutching my cure I tightly lock the door, try to catch my breath again - I hurt much more than any time before, I have no options left again_

 _I don't know what's worth fighting for or why I have to scream, but now I have some clarity to show you what I mean_

 _I don't know how I got this way, I'll never be alright..."_

 **-Breaking the Habit**

* * *

Huh. He wasn't dead.

Arms and hips twisted slowly, warily. Fingers curled and clenches. Muscles flexed. Green eyes opened experimentally. No pain apart from the phantom ache that was his constant companion now. Voldemort had once theorized it was his soul's memory of the damage done to his body, regaurdless of its forced healing. Harry turned his head tot he side. It wasn't shiny anymore, he noted. A soft hum from basic electronics. No muffled screams filtering through. He rolled his eyes to the far right. Clear walls. Fiberglass or similar he supposed. Separated from the other half of the room, which didn't have anyone in it. There were metal folding chairs in the corner.

He lifted his head up, ignoring the slight swimming motion this brought on. That was normal as well now. Voldemort stood a few feet in front of where he lay on a cot laying on the ground. The dark wizard staring fixedly at a camera that was directed at them. Harry blinked. He hadn't seen a camera like that since they first few days of their previous capture. Those muggles had quickly reinforced all of their electronics. Harry supposed Voldemort was amusing himself in the mostly empty space by unnerving whichever unlucky muggle was watching them on the other side of the lens.

Their clothes had been changed into clean, pale blue uniforms. A tunic-like top and bottoms to go with it. Both lose enough to move and thin enough their captors could tell if they tried to hide something. They must have been checked over thoroughly prior to being left here, so Harry figured the uniform was standard and not specific to them. It didn't seem fire proof anyway. A slight curved to his lips. The other muggles had known better.

 _"Do not speak in English,"_ Voldemort said, without turning around.. _"They are watching us. Listening."_

Harry pushed himself to a sitting position. _"I noticed. Where are we now?"_

A pause. _"I do not know. We were...removed from our previous location. These are different muggles. I have gathered they are at odds with the others. They don't seem to know what to do with us,"_ Voldemort turned and knelt down. _"From what I have heard of you, you are particularly good at skulking about places you don't belong and finding out information. They haven't tranquilized us. There are no chains inside our cell. They seem to think their muggle weapons are enough."_ Voldemort gave him a lipless smile. _"We shall use their foolishness to our advantage. I will disillusion you, Harry, and you shall slip out. I want you to figure out where we are and who these muggles are."_

As the pale wizard tapped Harry over the head and very odd feeling of something dripping down him happened, Harry realized Voldemort was assuming Harry would come back for him. Odd, decided Harry. Just because he had been unwilling to allow the muggles to kill Voldemort didn't mean Harry wasn't perfectly capable of leaving the man there and making a run for it on his own at the first opportunity.

The outside door to the left slid open. Four muggle men entered the room. Voldemort straightened. Two of the men held guns openly in their arms and stayed positioned on either side of the door, wide stance and silent otherwise. The other two came right up to the door to their cell. Harry stood up quickly, peering around Voldemort in blatant curiosity. Not that they would see it. One of the two muggles brave enough to come near them had dark blonde hair, he stood with his arms crossed and legs apart. The other was tall, dressed all in black. An eye patch adorned one of his eyes. Harry wondered if he really couldn't see out of it or if he had something similar to Moody's magical eye under it. One way to find out.

The man with the patch studied Voldemort for a moment. "Why don't we keep this simple," He suggested. "Tell us where the other one has gone."

Voldemort stared right back. _"Not likely."_ He said.

Eye patch man frowned. "Have we got confirmation on their language yet?" Static came from what Harry now saw was an earpiece of some kind. Talking to someone in the room the camera went to probably. Eye patch man rolled his one eye. "Does their file say they understand English?"

The blonde man beside him grinned. "Weapons are a universal language sir."

Eye patch threw the blonde guy a dirty look. "We don't know what HYDRA did to them, and until we do we need to be...cautious." He paused. "That being said if this one tries to leave the cell, shoot him." Eye patch raised a hand gun in Voldemort's general direction and said clearly. "Move back. Do you understand? Move back and stay there."

Voldemort took a few steps backward, feigning confusion.

The moment the door slid open Harry darted out, around the muggles and through the other door without a backward glance. He found himself in a hallway very different from the ones he'd become accustomed to. As he walked along, occasionally ducking to the side to avoid running into muggles, he looked around curiously. There were many muggles here. Most of them dressed similarly to the two that had been guarding the door. Once in a while, he saw one dressed like the blonde muggle had been. The other muggles usually called them 'agent'. Part of a muggle military maybe?

Everyone was speaking English most of the time, which he was thankful for. There were some accents and some chatter in other languages. Mostly English. This lead him to believe -hope- that they were in an English speaking country now.

He went passed rooms filled with computers and maps and diagrams. One room was a training room of some kind which he looked at in interest. He'd never considered wanting to learn to fight the muggle way before. If there ever was motivation for it this experience as a whole was it. He wondered if he could convince Dudley to teach him some boxing if he promised to cast him some glamours to make him better looking. Harry snickered.

It was an unordinary feeling. Being free to walk around like this after so long. He knew he was due for a meltdown at some point. But right now he felt...good. Great even. Eventually, he found a door that lead outside. He looked around and didn't see any fences. Stupid. Harry took off sprinting. Suddenly his eyes widened and slid to a halt, stumbling into what he presumed was a low wall. He held tightly to the sides, staring down at the ocean. Harry sucked in a breath. Where the Hell were they? He stepped back, releasing his vice like grip on the wall. He swallowed. Maybe they were docked somewhere? He turned ran around the perimeter of the entire ship. It had to be a ship of some kind. Because there was no way off. No land in sight. In fact, there was a part of the deck of the ship sectioned off with aircraft. Damn.

Harry found his way back into the ship, back to the cell they were keeping him and Voldemort in. He slipped right past the two guards and into the cell. Fury was still talking with Voldemort and getting nowhere, the dark lord insisting on talking in Parseltongue. The static sound indicated someone was talking to him. Harry paused beside Voldemort, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, letting him know he was back. Voldemort changed what he was saying mid-sentence.

 _"...given the chance. I could hold you under until nearly breaking and then let you heal just enough to do it again. Yet there you stand so smug and confidant in your hold over us, vile, stupid mugg-you're back. Excellent. The mat you were laying on earlier? Lay on it again. Feign sleep."_

Harry shrugged. He was trapped on a ship in the middle of an ocean with Voldemort as his only ally. Feigning sleep on a mat on the floor couldn't make his worse than it already was. He walked over to the mat and curled up on it like he'd been before. Peering through his lashed he watched Voldemort give an exaggerated _aha_ expression, holding out a hand to indicate someone smaller than him.

"Yes, damn you." The eye patch muggle said. "The other one, where is it? He?"

Harry brisked. He was not an it.

Voldemort turned toward Harry and knelt down. He held out his hand and put it on Harry's forehead. _"Pretend to wake up. Do not speak English. They believe we can not speak it and in turn that we don't understand it. They are more likely to say things they shouldn't around us if we allow them to continue to believe this fiction."_

The feeling of something dripping down him returned. As it subsided Harry allowed his lashes to flutter, opened them slowly. He blinked several times, bringing up a hand to rub at his eyes. Laying it on pretty thick but hey, why not. He sat up.

Eye patch growled. "Have we finished downloading the file? Can you find the part where it explains the little one's ability to turn invisible? Find out if it's actual invisibility or a defensive camouflage." Eye patch gave the two of them a look. Scoffing, he turned and walked out of their cell. The door slid shut behind him.

It said a lot, to Harry, that the muggle turned his back on them so easily. Obviously, they hadn't had time to look through their files yet. If he had, he wouldn't have done that. Eye patch listened to the static in his earpiece. He stopped, turning back to glance at them. He pointed at the dark blonde muggle.

"Barton you're on babysitting duty."

The man, Barton, scowled. "But sir, Natasha-"

"Will understand." Eye patch's lips twisted in what may have been an attempt at a smile. He was even worse at it than Voldemort. Barton's shoulders slumped. Annoyed, he dragged a chair to the center of the room and sat in it. The other muggles left and the remaining door slid shut.

Voldemort rose to resume his place standing and staring at the camera. These weren't reinforced, Harry knew. None of the ones he'd seen about the ship seemed to be. The old ones were set inside boxes made from the same stuff the gloves the scientists used one Harry were made from. Things to make them significantly less susceptible to their magic and electric discharge. Magic interfered with electronics. Voldemort had probably done something to it earlier to give him a small window of time to turn Harry invisible. He didn't want them to know about their magic. If Harry had a guess, he'd assume the dark lord was looking for weaknesses in all of the electronics and technology around them.

Barton stared at Harry through the glass. Harry raised a brow.

 _"A ship,"_ He said after a moment. _"They've got us on some kind of military ship in the ocean. A lot of muggles on it. I didn't see any white coats. Mostly guards and some more like Barton here. Agents, they called them. Rooms with computers, and maps and stuff like that. I saw a place for airplanes to land."_

 _"The muggles who had us before are an organization that calls themselves Hydra."_ Offered Voldemort. _"These muggles believe they are the ones who have made us different. Not-muggle like. We will allow them to believe this."_

Harry nodded, though the other wizard couldn't see it. Through the glass Barton seemed interested in their exchange, looking between them.

 _"We will need to have a conversation soon, Potter."_ Said Voldemort.

Harry turned his head. _"Aren't we having one right now?"_ He snarked. This was the most they'd spoken to one another in a long time.

Voldemort stopped his examination of the camera to turn around and look at him. _"I will need you to listen during this specific conversation, to what I have to say. I have discovered important information and we will need to decide what to do with it. We will then need to form a plan for dealing with these muggles. Do you think you are mentally prepared for this level of conversation?"_

Harry didn't know whether the dark lord was legitimately interested in his well being or if he only didn't want to have to repeat himself. Most likely the latter. Harry lifted and lowered one shoulder. _"We may as well have it now."_

The dark lord surveyed him a moment longer, then nodded. _"Dumbledore has kept a secret from the both of us."_

* * *

 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

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 **Notes:** Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?

 _Post Script:_ Next chapter: Inconvenient Secrets and Clever Lies

 **-Ever Yours. Pseu**


	3. Broken Crown

***The Great Escape***

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 **The Great Escape** by **Pseudonymous Entity** "

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"I play to win and if it looks like I've lost, it's only because it's not over yet." ― Dellacroix

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 **Summary: Events at the ministry go differently than fate intended. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort fall through the veil...and come out the other side. A secret muggle organization captures them. Nothing is ever the same.**

 **Characters: Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort and ***********

 **Warnings:** (Suggestions for warnings will be taken into consideration)

 **AN:** As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

 **ANx2:** A bit of a short chapter. I'll expand it a bit when I get the chance.

 **Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]**

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 _"...one day the skeletons are gonna come out, one day the elephants in the rooms will make a sound_

 _Watch out for lions and tigers and bears - It's about to hit the fan - Better beware."_

 **-Tell The Truth**

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 _"Try not to react,"_ Voldemort instructed.

Physically Harry straightened to give the appearance of high alert. Mentally, he snorted. Non-reaction on his part was highly unlikely. _"The first time we met, that you will remember, within the mirror chamber. I was there for the stone. Do you know why I needed it?"_

Harry frowned. _"You were a spirit then and you needed to a body."_ He cocked his head. _"And I do remember."_

 _"Good-"_

 _"The first time."_ Harry continued. _"When you came for me. My father told my mother to take me and go. I think you had anti-apparating wards up. She took me upstairs. Begged you to take her instead of me. Then a flash of green..."_ He trailed off. _"When I was younger, before Hogwarts, I had that dream all the time. It wasn't until I came into contact with a Dementor that I knew it was a memory. That I saw it so clearly."_

The dark lord didn't say anything for a moment. Their holding room quiet. Barton shifted in his seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Though he could not know what they were saying, he seemed interested all the same. Harry felt like giving a bow. Glad to be of service, he thought.

 _"I was there for a body,"_ Voldemort said. Perhaps choosing to ignore Harry's previous confession. _"I did not need to it, however, to live. I did not need it for immortality. On the day I came for you,"_ Or maybe he wouldn't ignore it. _"I came with a purpose beyond your death. There is a bit of magick, a ritual. One c an use it for a number of things, that sort of magic. It is highly regulated and forbidden now. It is...difficult. With it, you can tie yourself to this world even if your body should fail you. This is how I was able to remain while my body was gone. Are you understanding?"_

 _"Yeah._ " Said, Harry. _"I get it."_

Voldemort nodded slowly. _"It involves sacrificial magic. Sacrificing what it is you want, along with something precious. You must sacrifice a life to death in place of your own, and remove a piece of your soul. This piece is placed within something, a container, to keep it safe. It becomes a Horcrux."_

 _"Your diary."_ Said Harry, suddenly. _"Was it a Horcrux?"_

 _"It was."_ Voldemort tilted his head. Red eyes watching him closely. _"It is, of course, of no use to me now." He waited a moment more. Letting it all sink in maybe. "The night I went for you I intended to make another. I intended to use my prophesied vanquisher."_

 _"Poetic."_ Harry snarked.

 _"I thought so,"_ Voldemort said dryly, without missing a beat. _"I did not fail to create the Horcrux."_

Dark brows drew together in confusion. _"Did you create it using my mum or my father instead? I'm still alive, for all your trying to the contrary."_

 _"Yes, you have a fascinating healing ability, haven't you? Accelerated. You're quite durable."_ Voldemort's voice drawled along. He used the same tone Snape used when Harry wasn't getting something that ought to be obvious. Harry hated it. _"I used the life force of neither."_

He didn't like this conversation anymore. Harry swallowed and crossed his arms, pulling the thin fabric of his uniform over his fingers. No one said anything for a long while. They stood there, silently. Barton was rapt with attention, Harry could feel his gaze on them. Harry knew this conversation wasn't over, and he knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next. Honestly, he'd had enough conversations with adults in his life to know this was going in a direction that wasn't any good for Harry. What made it worse, was that Harry couldn't even bring himself to brace against whatever it would be. It seemed so much easier to just take it squarely. So he did.

 _"What did you do?"_ Harry whispered.

 _"Did you ever ask Dumbledore how it was you could speak with snakes. Ask why we share out mental connection? Or why we're so much alike?"_ Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self, Tom Riddle, had said something similar once. Red eyes examined him. Waiting.

 _"He said...he said that, when you attacked me, my mother's love protected me, but some of your power was transferred to me..."_ He left the sentence hanging. Dumbledore knew. That was what had Voldemort upset. When he was healing him before these new muggles attacked the HYDRA base. This is what he discovered. What Dumbledore had hidden from them both.

Voldemort did not use that moment to confirm Harry's suspicions. Instead, he said, _"How interesting that he allowed an eleven-year-old into the obstacle course guarding the stone. That he did not share what he already knew, that there was a basilisk beneath the school. He even let you participate in the tournament."_

 _"That's enough."_

 _"Almost as if he was searching out every possible opportunity to be rid of one of my-"_

 ** _"Enough!"_** Harry shouted, to everyone's surprise.

Agent Barton looked half-poised to intervene. Harry nearly laughed. There was nothing he could do for Harry. There was nothing anyone could do.

 _"I wonder what the ministry will think when learning about it."_

Harry scoffed. _"I couldn't give a rat's arse about the ministry's opinion of me."_

Voldemort's head tilted in a way Harry was coming to hate. _"And your friends? If they learn that Harry Potter, the famous boy-who-lived is nothing but a fraud. A piece of my soul, inhabiting a fifteen-year-old's body? I wonder what they shall think."_

Harry winced. He wasn't stupid. Voldemort would only tell him this if it benefited him, not because he cared that Harry had been deceived. Why not take an opportunity to convince the one prophesied as the only one with the power to defeat him, to not do so? His head swam. Of course, he was the one with the power to do so. He was Voldemort. He was what kept him immortal. He was...a Horcrux.

But Voldemort was not above twisting the truth to suit his own purposes. Harry had no way of knowing any more than he was told. He could see though, because he was not one for long periods of denial, that the implication of his status as Horcrux was the truth. He held inside him Voldemort's soul. He was a tiny piece of the dark lord, and he always had been.

His lips pulled upward. That was Voldemort's problem, not his.

He knew, he knew, soul piece or no Voldemort would not hesitate to lock him away where no one could find him if he thought for a moment Harry wasn't on board. Just like the muggles had done. First his relatives, than HYDRA and now these ones.

Harry came to a decision. The wizard was right. If the ministry found out he would be utterly screwed. What Hary needed was some leverage. Some power in the situation that he could use against both Voldemort and the ministry and even Dumbledore if it came to it. Dumbledore and his Order of the Pheonix. He needed the power to defend himself and his friends. To shift the balance in his favour for once. He would never allow another person he cared for to die protecting him.

His arms lowered to his sides, fingers curling into fists.

There would _never_ be another Sirius.

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 **Pseudonymous Entity**

 **2017**

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 **Notes:** Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?

 _Post Script: _

Poor Voldemort. He just doesn't quite inspire trust, does he?

 **-Ever Yours. Pseu**


End file.
